Painting class

I have just finished a painting class with Patricia Edie. India ink with water color washes. Here are some of my successes!

Poem-a-day - April 27

Today's prompt: Write about hope or hopelessness

Heart ache

What do you do when there is no hope?
When there is no light, only a tunnel.
I imagine you take this breath
and then the next one. You eat breakfast,
read the mail, you cry. You curse the fate
that has landed in your lap - or you don't.
You reach out or you withdraw.
You learn something about what is beneath
hopefulness.
The deep dark place no-one wants to explore,
ever. The bedrock below the soil.
You must find the deepest place
that will hold even hopelessness.

Poem-a-day - April 26

Today's Prompt: Write a poem about "more than 5 times"

Some poets claim

more than 50 rewrites

for a single poem.

I want to dare

to lay a beginning

onto a blank page.

Allow the poem

to unfold on its own.

Not to cling or try

to bend the thing

into a familiar shape.

Not to hoist the sails

to catch the usual

trade wind. But

to let the sails luff -

midstream. To face

into not knowing.

To make space

without expectation,

knowing I'll have

50 more chances

to get it right...

Poem-a-day - April 25

Today's Prompt: Write a poem based on a line from a song

Saturday Night's Alright, alright, alright

--- Elton John

Saturday night's the night he likes.

He dudes himself up, polishes his shoes

and sets off to find his girl at the bar.

He wants only the finest, no compromise

in quality for him. The blonde blue-eyed

one stares at only him. The corseted one,

with breasts falling out of her white blouse.

She's just the one. She'll do indeed.

He strokes her sloping shoulders, licks

her green lips. He grabs her and prepares

to take her all the way... right then, right there.

Yep. His St. Pauli Girl always gives him

what he's lookin' for on a Saturday night.

Poem-a-day - April 24

Today's prompt: Write about evening

Dusk

when the earth turns

away from the sun

towards tomorrow

when the birds unruffle

their feathers, let their last song

float into purple air

when the to dos are checked off

and you can settle down

with a glass of chardonnay and a book

when the children are asleep

and the dishes gleam

in the rack on the sink

when the insistent sun

yields to the gentle moon

and nothing is required of you

when all that is possible

has been considered

and you can turn the calendar page.

Poem-a-day - April 23

Today's prompt: Write about being exhausted

It's exhausting when the world's woes

come into your bedroom at three A.M;

You neighbor who has too many health problems,

Your friend who's son has cancer,

the poor of the world meeting in Bolivia

to find a way to ask for justice.

Then there's your own backyard

filling with dandelions,

your hemorrhoids and hangnails.

How do you hold all this with intention,

with awareness and still not lose

the perfect square of glittering white moonlight

that has fallen on your bedspread?

Poem-a-day - April 22

Today's prompt: Write about earth...

Spring (after poet Elizabeth Bohnhorst)

Open the grave!

Wake the great artist of spring.

Let her paint pastel blooms, let colors run.

Let the lakes melt their skins,

trees open their green fingers

and yellow spread through lawns.

Watch carefully as the earth

loosens its hold

on roots longing to grow.

You have this too--

this softening of your hardened heart;

Allow it to melt at least until the first frost returns.

Poem-A-Day - April 21

Today's prompt: Write about "according to..."

My Mother never did things

according to the recipe.

She freely substituted whatever

she had on hand.

A child of the depression,

putting a whole cup of butter

in any recipe

ran against her grain.

A daughter has to rebel somehow.

Accordingly, I myself like extravagance.

I'm more likely to double

the amount of butter in the recipe

buy the best cut of meat,

use real cream in my fair trade coffee.

I wonder what my daughter will do?

Poem-a-day - April 20

Today's prompt: Write about "looking back"

My Rearview Mirror

I like my rearview mirror,

I keep wanting confirmation

that what is behind me

is still there.

It gives that receding

view of history.

You see only

the reflection of things.

But, there is always

that warning;

"objects are closer

than they appear"

Everything is closer

than it appears;

our death,

the deadline we agreed to,

Monday morning,

as well as the car

behind us.

You can't trust

the reflection of the past.

The rearview

is always an approximation.